Heliotropism
by braceface freak
Summary: The movement of plants-and Gregs-towards the Sun. Mystrade.


**_Disclaimer: Sherlock is not mine. I simply use the characters for recreational purposes and spend far too much time mooning over the cast. _****  
**

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**Heliotropism  
**_**The movement of plants-and Gregs-towards the Sun. **_

After four months of dating and two of sharing a bed Mycroft Holmes had come to a conclusion.

Gregory Lestrade was somewhat like a sunflower.

...

...

Not because he was brightly coloured, particularly tall or produced a useful cooking-oil.

...

Rather, it was because of his seemingly inherent attraction to the Sun.

Of course he'd noted-long before they knew each other in any intimate capacity-that during the summer months Detective Inspector Lestrade had a constant olive gleam about his person.  
It was obvious even on the grainy CCTV footage he pored over late at night.  
His holidays were always taken somewhere tropical, with warm, white sand and crystalline water; a point of contention with his wife.  
By the end of the marriage Greg was travelling alone.

He'd taken notes, long, laborious ones. But it wasn't until Mycroft knew him, _really_ knew him, that he saw the true influence the Sun had over the policeman's life.

And he had to admit he was more than a little jealous.

Especially as he watched Greg shuffle beneath the covers, rolling over onto his stomach with one arm stretched out so his hand lolled off the mattress, stealing most of the duvet as he did so. He lay spread-eagled in a patch of hazy light streaming in through a crack in the curtains; apparently even the throes of unconsciousness couldn't reduce Greg's intense affinity to the hot, brightness of the Sun.

Not that there wasn't a certain benefit.

Mycroft couldn't deny his lover looked absolutely delightful when bathed in the pale glow of morning, the thick strands of his hair glinting like precious metal and his face relaxed in sleep. The man was sure he could while away most of his life just watching Gregory sleep.

...

Briiinnnng! Briiiinnnng!

...

Life however seemed to conspire against him…constantly.

Mycroft reached for his phone, hoping to answer before the damned ringing woke his bed-partner; no point in them both having their morning's ruined.

Snatching up a shirt from the floor the man shimmied into it, committing the three missing buttons to memory-he'd be giving Greg his next tailor's bill-and left the room, whispering his greetings into the mouthpiece.

"Good morning Anthea. No, no you didn't wake me. Now what is this about the Russian elections?"

With any luck he'd be able to broker a quick resolution and return to bed.

...

"Mornin'," came a familiar, sleep-heavy voice as the elder Holmes finally made it back, a pair of earthy eyes watching as he slipped beneath what was left of the sheets.

His lover was still bathed in sunlight and Mycroft felt his throat constrict as he watched the dusty rays caress the well-known planes of Greg's body; the dappled light dancing along the swooping curve of his calves and across the strong line of his shoulders.

Apparently his silence did not go unnoticed.

With that damn-frustrating half-smirk that made Mycroft certain his partner could read his mind, Greg rolled over onto his side, moulding himself head to toe against Holmes's body.  
His skin still retained the residual heat from the Sun's earlier embrace, but with Greg's steady breath filtering across his clavicle and his blunt fingernails pressed firmly into the back of his neck, Mycroft could forgive his lover for his infidelity.

As lips began to form a path around the hollow at the base of his throat he cast a fleeting glance to the abandoned patch of sunlight, far less appealing now that it didn't have a sprawled out Gregory decorating it.  
It took all his strength not to laugh out loud, triumphant over his adversary.  
A well-placed tongue and a nip to his jawline drew his attention back to more serious matters.

Pressing his face against his lover's cheek, Mycroft smiled and tittered to himself.

"Morning sunshine."

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_**I hope you enjoyed my little contribution to the Mystrade ship. Reviews are love. **_


End file.
